The New York Times
September 10, 2002
By Susan Sontag
WAR?
Since last Sept. 11 the Bush administration has told the American people that America
is at war. But this war is of a peculiar nature. It seems to be, given the nature of
the enemy, a war with no foreseeable end. What kind of war is that?
There are precedents. Wars on such enemies as cancer, poverty and drugs are understood
to be endless wars. There will always be cancer, poverty and drugs. And there will
always be despicable terrorists, mass murderers like those, who perpetrated the attack
a year ago tomorrow - as wells freedom fighters (like the French Resistance and the
African National Congress), who were once called terrorists by those they opposed,
but were relabeled by history.
When a president of the United States declares war on cancer or poverty or drugs, we
know that "war" is a metaphor. Does anyone think that this war - the war that America
has declared on terrorism - is a metaphor? But it is and one with powerful consequences.
War has been disclosed, not actually declared, since the threat is deemed to be
self-evident.
Real wars are not metaphors. And real wars have a beginning and an end. Even the
horrendous, intractable conflict between Israel and Palestine will end one day.
But this antiterror war can never end. That is the sign that it is not a war, but
rather a mandate for expanding the use of American power.
When the government declares war on cancer or poverty or drugs, it means the government
is asking that new forces be mobilized to address the problem. It also means that the
government cannot do a whole lot to solve it. When the government declares war on
terrorism - terrorism being a multinational, largely clandestine network of enemies -,
it means that the government is giving itself permission to do what it wants. When it
wants to intervene somewhere, it will. It will brook no limits on its power.
The American suspicion of foreign "entanglements" is very old. But this administration
has taken the radical position that all international treaties are potentially
inimical to the interests of the United States - since by signing a treaty on anything
(whether environmental issues or the conduct of war and the treatment of prisoners)
the United States is binding itself to obey conventions that might one day be invoked
to limit America's freedom of action to do whatever the government thinks is in the
country's interests. Indeed, that's what a treaty is: it limits the right of its
signatories to complete freedom of action on the subject of the treaty. Up to now
it has not been the avowed position of any respectable nation-state that this is a
reason for eschewing treaties.
Describing America's new foreign policy as actions undertaken in wartime is a powerful
disincentive to having a mainstream debate about what is actually happening. This
reluctance to ask questions was already apparent in the immediate aftermath of the
attacks last Sept. 11. Those, who objected to the jihad language used by the American
government (good versus evil, civilization versus barbarism), were accused of condoning
the attacks or at least the legitimacy of the grievances behind the attacks.
Under the slogan "United We Stand" the call to reflectiveness was equated with dissent,
dissent with lack of patriotism. The indignation suited those, who have taken charge of
the Bush administration's foreign policy. The aversion to debate among the principal
figures in the two parties continues to be apparent in the run-up to the commemorative
ceremonies on the anniversary of the attacks - ceremonies that are viewed as part of
the continuing affirmation of American solidarity against the enemy. The comparison
between Sept. 11, 2001 and Dec. 7, 1941 has never been far from mind.
Once again America was the object of a lethal surprise attack that cost many - in
this case civilian - lives, more, than the number of soldiers and sailors, who died
at Pearl Harbor. However, I doubt that great commemorative ceremonies were felt to
be needed to keep up morale and unite the country on Dec. 7, 1942. That was a real
war and one year later it was very much still going on.
This is a phantom war and therefore in need of an anniversary. Such an anniversary
serves a number of purposes. It is a day of mourning. It is an affirmation of national
solidarity. But of one thing we can be sure. It is not a day of national reflection.
Reflection, it has been said, might impair our "moral clarity". It is necessary to be
simple, clear, united. Hence there will be borrowed words. like the Gettysburg Address,
from that bygone era, when great rhetoric was possible.
Abraham Lincoln's speeches were not just inspirational prose. They were bold statements
of new national goals in a time of real, terrible war. The Second Inaugural Address
dared to herald the reconciliation that must follow Northern victory in the Civil War.
The primacy of the commitment to end slavery was the point of Lincoln's exaltation of
freedom in the Gettysburg Address. But when the great Lincoln speeches are ritually
cited or recycled for commemoration, they have become completely emptied of meaning.
They are now gestures of nobility, of greatness of spirit. The reasons for their
greatness are irrelevant.
Such an anachronistic borrowing of eloquence is in the grand tradition of American
anti-intellectualism: the suspicion of thought, of words. Hiding behind the humbug
that the attack of last Sept. 11 was too horrible, too devastating, too painful, too
tragic for words, that words could not possibly express our grief and indignation,
our leaders have a perfect excuse to drape themselves in others' words, now voided
of content. To say something might be controversial. It might actually drift into
some kind of statement and therefore invite rebuttal. Not saying anything is best.
I do not question that we have a vicious, abhorrent enemy that opposes most of
what I cherish - including democracy, pluralism, secularism, the equality of the
sexes, beardless men, dancing (all kinds), skimpy clothing and, well, fun. And not
for a moment do I question the obligation of the American government to protect the
lives of its citizens. What I do question is the pseudo-declaration of pseudo-war.
These necessary actions should not be called a "war". There are no endless wars,
but there are declarations of the extension of power by a state that believes it
cannot be challenged.
America has every right to hunt down the perpetrators of these crimes and their
accomplices. But this determination is not necessarily a war. Limited, focused
military engagements do not translate into "wartime" at home. There are better
ways to check America's enemies, less destructive of constitutional rights and
of international agreements that serve the public interest of all, than continuing
to invoke the dangerous, lobotomizing notion of endless war.